


Complementing a Lasat

by spaceyquill



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Pre-Spark of the Rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-08-30 16:16:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8539855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceyquill/pseuds/spaceyquill
Summary: Sabine uses downtime before a mission to try speaking to Zeb in Lasani.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DuaeCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuaeCat/gifts).



> I saw the prompt "Sabine is doing her best to flirt but it’s not at all what a Lasat would do and Zeb’s totally oblivious" and I couldn't resist :3

The _Ghost_ crew couldn’t exactly steal an Imperial weapons shipment when the shipment itself was delayed. The crew had been planning this operation since they heard about it a week earlier, pilfering crates of Imperial weapons as they passed through the narrow streets of Lothal’s Capital City. But a half hour had already passed since their mission should’ve kicked off, and still no sign of the weapons.

Kanan remained a lookout patrolling the streets while Zeb and Sabine took advantage of one of the nearby cantinas to stay out of sight—at least until they received a message from their mission leader. Just past midday, only two or three other patrons competed for space and service, leaving most of the tables open.

And despite the plan where the Spectres would pretend not to know one another around town, Sabine sat on a hovering stool at the bar, right next to Zeb.

Her helmet earned a spot on the counter, a neighbor to her cup of water, and she leaned close to Zeb to whisper, “ _ShraaKriiihan wgh warrim_.”

“You want to steal my face?” Zeb asked with one brow arched. He swirled his own glass as Sabine’s cheeks puffed; she’d been attempting to string together basic Lasani phrases for weeks now. Where she even learned most of the words, Zeb didn’t know; she only asked him for help when the HoloNet didn’t teach her new curse words.

“You still sound like a Wookiee speaking Lasani,” he added with a smirk. In fact, she ended up accidentally sneaking Shyriiwook words into her attempts at Lasani, which only made her speech even more fragmented.

“Well how do I say I like your face?”

“ _ShriiKrahan waz warrim_.”

“That’s what I said!”

From the moment the crew had taken in Sabine, Zeb knew she was prodigious with foreign languages. It wasn’t too strange when she started attempting to pick up Lasani, but Zeb never expected her to attempt it with such enthusiasm.

He glanced around the cantina, but luckily none of the other customers—and not even the bartender—paid them any attention. Hopefully none of them would notice them out in the streets later as they commenced their heist of Imperial property… whenever the shipment came through. The patrons’ melancholy was a staple of Lothal culture, it seemed, and for once Zeb was grateful for it because Sabine wasn’t attempting discretion in the least bit.

Zeb felt her glove land on his exposed arm and stroke along the stripes.

“So if I wanna say ‘your fur is nice,’ it’s _maáulrrr_ , right?”

Zeb juggled five different answers between indecisive paws. “It’s… _technically_ correct, but not really. I mean, if a Lasat said that, there would be scents involved that humans can’t replicate. And without scents, it’s not so much a nice compliment. Just more of a… strange fact.”

The other members of the _Ghost_ crew had thankfully stopped commenting on Zeb’s smell as time went on. He never corrected them nor informed them it was a nonverbal addition to communication—which would raise more questions than he could answer well enough. So he let them go on believing: that’s just how Lasats smell.

Sabine tapped her chin thoughtfully, her drink—and her whole cover for being there—completely forgotten. Zeb at least kept up the act of a forlorn local.

He even went so far as to groan the next time she asked, “Okay, then what does it smell like when you compliment me?”

Zeb spared her hopeful expression a quick glance. He’d seen that same look in her eyes when faced with a roomful of different explosives at her fingertips—she wasn’t going to drop this.

“ _Rukha usyys igh jyKtaa_.”

“I sound best silent?!”

Somehow, the rest of the customers continued to ignore Sabine, and Zeb could only blink at the frowning Mandalorian.

“Y-yes,” he admitted, wide-eyed. Apparently she had a handle on a wider vocabulary than he expected.

“Well, I didn’t smell a difference. Just your usual, stupid stench,” grumbled Sabine, hunching onto the bar top and finding her water cup for the first time since she ordered it.

Zeb cracked a grin that she missed through her downward scowling. “Look, if you’re really serious about picking up my language, I can try to help you out. Although you’ll never come across a Lasat that can’t speak Basic.”

“I don’t want to learn it to speak to _other_ Lasats, Zeb,” Sabine mumbled. She flicked the side of her cup at a steady rhythm, the noise muffled by her gloves.

“I’ll still help,” he decided. Zeb dropped one large paw on her head and ruffled her orange-fringed hair until it was as spiky as his own fur. Her scowl melted into a giggle, only interrupted by a chirp from her wristcom.

 _“Spectre Five,”_ Kanan’s voice came through, _“target approaching. You and Spectre Four take your positions.”_

“You first,” Zeb said with a nod to the door. He’d let her get a head start into the streets where they were supposed to be strangers.

Sabine grabbed her helmet, smiling at him. “See you out there, _baa_.”

Before he could correct her on using a term of endearment for him, a hasty kiss landed on his cheek. Sabine ducked into her helmet and was out the door a second later, leaving Zeb wondering where that sudden behavior had come from.


End file.
